


& i could easily lose my mind

by eggosandxmen



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Spiral Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:40:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23868397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggosandxmen/pseuds/eggosandxmen
Summary: “Michael,” Helen says, without hesitation,  “you aren’t letting me go.”“No,” Michael confirms. “You are not a normal victim, Helen Richardson.”“I know.”Michael looks at Helen, and Helen looks at Michael, and-- slowly-- Helen reaches out and takes one of its impossibly large hands in both of her own.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Helen Richardson & Michael Shelley, Michael & Helen Richardson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 149





	& i could easily lose my mind

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to write some other TMA drabbles during this quarantine, but here is the first of them-- my dearest and most beloved Distortions. I hope you enjoy! This is my first time writing them.

The center of the corridors, when Helen reaches it at last, is a strange little office, stacked high with papers made of skin, scribbled on in handwriting Helen can’t read. In the corner is the Creature that had chased her, its hands less sharp than usual. This room doesn’t make her head hurt quite as much.

She blinks at it as she closes the door carefully. The echoing laughter starts up, but she can’t quite tell if it’s due to amusement or fear. 

“Found the middle, did you, wanderer? To see me as I was/am/will be?”

“Michael,” Helen says softly, and it sways in his seat at the mention of its name. “You don’t look like a monster in here.”

“I’m not quite human,” Michael replies, smiling with too many teeth. “But here I am as close to Michael Shelley as I ever will be again. This was his office, when he was not me. At the archives.”

Helen looks at the desk-- it’s covered in more papers. There’s just one personal item on it, a picture of a distinctly non-distorted Michael and a man in all black with dark makeup; he’s leaning on Michael’s shoulder, face hidden and flipping off the camera with a tattooed hand, grinning. Michael is positively beaming. 

Helen picks the picture up and Michael stands up, leaning over her shoulder. Seeing it in her periphery makes her head pound, but she doesn’t attempt to move it. “That is Gerry,” it says, voice soft like it’s trying to keep the man’s name safe in its mouth. “Michael loved him. He is dead, now.”

“Oh,” Helen says, lost on how to respond. “Oh. I’m very sorry.”

“It was not you,” Michael replies, looking genuinely forlorn as it takes the photo from her hands and places it carefully back on the desk. “Michael Shelley was taken long before he died.”

A pause.

“Michael,” Helen says, without hesitation, “you aren’t letting me go.”

“No,” Michael confirms. “You are not a normal victim, Helen Richardson.”

“I know.”

Michael looks at Helen, and Helen looks at Michael, and-- slowly-- Helen reaches out and takes one of its impossibly large hands in both of her own. That is, apparently, all that is needed in order for the Becoming to begin.

The pain of becoming the Spiral is like nothing Helen has ever felt before. 

(Helen isn’t Helen, really, she it is she is it is they are the Distortion it is all bright neverending colors and the burn of marks upon her their its skin, the map of the corridors that Helen Michael it had tried to draw for Jon the Archivist Mr. Sims spreading across its skin in impossible shapes, and when it is done, when they are done, there are two of them, an impossible who in the place of a what.)

Michael opens the desk draw in front of it (him, now?) and takes out a pair of old, scratched glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. He is more Michael Shelley than he was, and Helen is more Spiral than she was, and they are mirrors, reflections, they are the corridors and they are Helen and Michael, permanently, perhaps, or perhaps not.

Michael smiles a Very Wrong smile at her, and Helen does not feel afraid. She smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always make my day!


End file.
